Girls are arsonists. I think that’s the only way girls know how to retreat when their fucking hearts break: burning the keepsakes means clearing the memories of what great love it used to be. Some girls that I know give away those memories into empty hearts of strangers. The keychains get passed around to her friends, without them knowing the cruel heartache that happened for it to be given away.
Then we hit the bad points. We miss the person he used to be, or we missed the love we used to feel, thinking perhaps it was a love worth crying for after all even after months it was over. I know because I regret ashes. It's currently 1:12 A.M. and I fucking ache for the maps I burnt. The bridges I burnt. These arsonists burn down physically tangible souvenirs like a pyro. Down to the ashes just as the anger lit the flames a little bit too well.
I know I have caused myself a great deal of pain, which I could never truly forgive myself for. Then there’s the pain I inflicted on him that I swore as history never to be repeated. Being treated with kindness in return for the scars you gave to someone is the slowest kill. One thing can't be touched by fire, he used to describe it. One obvious consequences of fire-riddance of memories is that it’s one of no point of return. You can’t reassembles ashes. I would never hurt anyone in the same way ever again, so if it means suppressing my feelings or keeping distances or building my walls up so high, by any means, so be it.
I am a flawed machine that doesn’t hold the capacity to love sincerely. I keep asking myself if this really is love? Would I still feel the same if he changed? Am I just attracted to the affection that I lack in receiving? What if this love I’m feeling is fake as fuck? If this is not love at all, what will happen if I rush in and end up hurting the same heart again?
All I know is that if I do, I would not forgive myself ever again. So I count my safe distance from him. Even if it hurts so badly.
Currently, now is a bad place to be in. I dreamt of him yesterday and I woke up with a heartbreak at 3 and there was no sleep after. My heart beats with the kind of heavy, sedated pain that made me feel like it could stop at any given moment. I kept mentioning his name like a mantra, like I’m keeping rosaries for his name. Like he could be the reason for me to stay alive. I am hurt. I don’t know why because I have absolutely no rights to feel hurt. He does.
I asked God if what I’m feeling is love and I kept praying for my heart to be certain. Then today I keep thinking of calling him and I kept thinking of the black chain I lost. And perhaps, I miss the person I lost too, but Allah knows better and …if it was any good, it would have stayed. So I keep praying and keep on praying. If this love is mine, it will be. And I believe in that.
